Secrets Told in Blood
by doctorkaitlyn
Summary: Daryl has told Glenn a lot of things about himself; secrets, memories, trivial anecdotes.  But there are some things you just can't tell people, even if morality is a concept of the past.  Read list of warnings inside.


**Warnings:** Language (it is Daryl Dixon, after all), smut and blood, all at the same time. Oh yes.

**Author's Note: **This was inspired by two things: The Walking Dead kink meme on LJ and a moment in chapter 3 of Spare Me. And from there, it was unstoppable. R&R would be wonderful. xo.

**Secrets Told in Blood.**

Daryl had shared a lot of things with Glenn; secrets, memories, some little trivial things that he'd almost forgotten about. He'd told the young man long rambling stories from his childhood, gone on soliquies about something as simple as the smell of Ma's cooking or the feeling of sitting in front of the fire in the wintertime. He'd revealed the origin of every scar on his body, prompted by Glenn's questioning fingers lingering over each of them in the early morning hours when it was too hot to sleep. On the rare occasions that they shared watch, he'd explained the meaning of all his tattoos, changing them from meaningless scribbles to stories inked upon his skin.

For lack of a better word, he liked it. He liked the connection that he had with the younger man, liked that, unlike the others, Glenn didn't find it difficult to just sit back and listen for awhile. He seemed more than content to listen to Daryl talk about anything, whether it was history or about a book he remembered from high school or anything like that. Daryl had never had that; there'd always been someone telling him to shut his mouth, that no one cared.

It was... _secure._ Or something like that. But nonetheless, no matter how secure and foolproof he may have felt, there were some things that Daryl just couldn't tell the kid. No matter what they had already done, Daryl had to keep a few secrets to himself; some of them he kept because he needed to have _something_, needed to keep some things to himself, just in case. Some of them he kept because even thinking about them made him feel shameful, like a child being caught with their hand in the cookie jar; he didn't want to imagine how the hell he'd react if he actually started talking about the last words he'd said to his Ma, for instance.

But then, there were just some things that you_ couldn'_t tell people about. Even if the world had gone to hell and the moral code had gone along with it, there were just some things that people were inherently freaked out about, especially if they were twentysomething Korean boys who was still pretty damn vanilla, as far as Daryl was concerned.

There was absolutely no reason that Glenn ever had to know that Daryl had a thing for blood. Not Walker blood; that was a completely different thing, that was just fucking necrophilia. But ever since he had been a teenager, Daryl had just had this weird fascination with blood and, probably as a direct result, a lesser fascination with biting. He knew that, in the time before, there'd been chicks who would have been all over him if he'd admitted such a thing, practically offering up their throats, but it wasn't a whole vampire thing. Fuck, Daryl didn't even _know_ what it was. He just knew that he'd been fairly good at holding himself off, only biting hard enough to leave fairly decent hickies on Glenn's ribs and back and, if things had gone his way, that was as far as it would have ever went.

He'd forgotten that temptation was truly a powerful thing.

They'd been staying at this little motel on the side of the road, barricading themselves in different rooms. Daryl had made it very clear that he wasn't going to share with anyone with Glenn and the others had merely shrugged, sticking together in their groups of three or four. They'd thankfully ended up beside T-Dog and Dale; Daryl wasn't too keen on being kept awake by Rick or Lori getting it on. He realized that thought was a little hypocritical and made a mental note to make sure Glenn was quiet.

It happened when Glenn was shaving. Daryl had no idea _why_ the kid was shaving, since he was pretty sure the kid didn't have any facial hair but he had merely continued talking to him, sitting on the edge of the bathtub and explaining how to track a deer through the forest. Even though he was staring into the mirror, Daryl knew that Glenn was listening to him from the way his mouth quirked up at the corners when he found something to be especially interesting. Suddenly, he'd cried out, tossing the found razor into the rust-stained sink and clutching at his neck.

"Fuck," he muttered and when he pulled his hand away, the pads of his fingers were stained with blood. Without even thinking, Daryl had snatched them and pulled them to his mouth, sliding his tongue over each digit. The harsh taste of iron briefly filled his mouth and he couldn't help but groan, wanting more and more.

That's when he remembered that there was a person attached to those fingers and he'd let go of Glenn's wrist swiftly, letting his arm swing free. The look on the other man's face was... well, he didn't exactly know. Glenn's eyes were certainly wide but that didn't tell him much; they got wide from a variety of things, from terror to excitement to arousal. His bottom lip was sucked into his mouth and Daryl could just see quick flashes of his teeth gnawing on the skin.

"Shit," he muttered, standing up and trying very hard not to look at the nick that was still oozing blood down Glenn's smooth neck. "I should probably go do... somethin'..." He really could not think of a way to solve the situation that wasn't extremely awkward so he settled on sidling out of the bathroom, mind wandering to what other room he could spend the night in.

His back hit the wall of the bedroom with a surprising amount of force; Glenn was quite strong, even if it wasn't obvious. Although his eyes were still wide, there was something smouldering inside them, something Daryl recognized all too well.

_Oh. _

With their eyes still locked, Glenn slowly raised a fingertip and gently brushed over the nick on his neck, covering his skin in a thin layer of blood. Just as slowly, he laid that fingertip on Daryl's parted lips. Daryl immediately took the bait, grabbing Glenn's wrist again, feeling his heartbeat underneath his thumb as he languorously licked every last drop of blood off Glenn's finger.

Christ, he was wearing off on the kid.

As soon as he was done, Daryl grabbed Glenn's hair and pulled him into a crushing kiss, wincing only slightly as their teeth momentarily banged together. Glenn moaned deep in the back of his throat and Daryl realized that, not only could the kid taste his own blood, he _liked _it. Even if he'd wanted to think straight at that particular moment in time, he was pretty sure that the ability to have coherent thoughts had disappeared because it was so wrong that the kid was seeing this side of him but it was so goddamn hot that he wasn't bothered by it and even if they hadn't even touched yet, he was pretty sure that he was harder than he'd ever been.

That assumption was blown away the instant Glenn pulled him over to the bed that, at any other time might have been hell. But as soon as Glenn hit the sheets and tilted his head back, offering himself up, Daryl realized that it was absolute heaven. He wasn't sure if he should go right for the kill or be a tease but when Glenn groaned, pressing his hips upwards, it became all too obvious what to do. Dipping his head down to the tiny sliver of Glenn's collarbone that was exposed, he used his tongue to trace the thin crimson trail back to its origin, which was still leaking. Once there, he didn't hesitate, sucking the skin between his lips, revelling in the taste of the blood coursing over his teeth.

"Jesus _christ_ Daryl."

_Now_ Daryl was definitely harder than ever before. While his mouth was occupied, alternating between sucking and nipping the already broken skin, he let his hands roam down to Glenn's pants, making swift work with the button and zipper. Moaning again, he pressed his hips up against Daryl's hands, making Daryl growl in the back of his throat. It was far too much, almost overwhelming but he knew that he couldn't stop. This wasn't a time to talk, this was a time to seize what was his and seize it _hard._ Pulling back from Glenn, he yanked his own shirt off, tossing it onto the floor before reaching for his own jeans.

He'd forgotten how quick the kid was. In one blurry motion, he'd sat up and smacked away Daryl's hands, replacing them with his own. Even after the button and zipper were undone, he dragged his mouth over the exposed skin, not so much kissing as he was _pressing._ When he got to Daryl's hipbone, he looked up with this look that was positively delicious before, with his eyes twinkling, biting down _hard._

"_Jesus!"_ As much as he wanted the kid to put his mouth lower, there was something so intoxicating about watching Glenn, who he'd thought was so innocent, be so goddamn depraved. It was a relief, almost. But even though it felt amazing, watching him eagerly suck at the small wound he'd made, if he didn't get off, he thought that he was going to explode. He reluctantly pushed Glenn onto his back again and wriggled out of his jeans, carelessly flicking them in the general direction of the door. He really hoped that none of the others came to knock because, as Glenn kicked his pants off as well, Daryl realized that there was _nothing_ he was getting up for, not until he was done.

(Except maybe a Walker attack but even that was doubtful.)

Even though (and this he would never admit), he was always terrified when Glenn went on supply runs, there was definitely an advantage to it; every time one of the women sent him off to a pharmacy for whatever they needed, Glenn always managed to sneak a bottle of lube out with him. No one had been thinking of that when the apocalypse had happened, apparently, and thank God they hadn't. As it was, Daryl was barely aware that he had slicked two of his fingers up; while his mouth was occupied with licking the taste of his own blood off of Glenn's lips, the rest of his body was doing the necessary preparation. When he adjusted his hips and pushed in, he had to swallow Glenn's moan, which definitely would have been more than loud enough to give them away.

"Need you to be quiet," he murmured in between thrusts, blunt fingernails digging into Glenn's prominent hipbones. In response, when he changed angles, Glenn bit down on the side of his neck, fingers pressing into Daryl's ribs. In response, Daryl went back to sucking on the razor nick, fresh blood spilling as he scraped his teeth over the skin.

God, he was _never_ going to get tired of that.

He didn't last as long as he would have liked but he just couldn't put it off any longer; Glenn was so tight and warm and so goddamn willing beneath him, moaning and arching his hips and whimpering as Daryl greedily licked up his blood. When he did come, it was like running into a brick wall headfirst. All of his nerves flared at once, flooding his body with the most amazing fire. For a moment, all he could see a field of white completely clouding his vision. When he finally came back to his own body after what felt like an eternity, he was aware that his stomach was damp and that Glenn was panting heavily, his fingers digging into Daryl's shoulders. Letting his breath come back, Daryl pulled out and rolled onto his side, examining the mark on the side of Glenn's neck. What had started out as a razor nick had evolved into a cut nearly an inch long that was impossible to hide.

"Christ," he muttered, gently prodding the cut with his finger, "looks like you got yourself bitten by a Walker." Glenn merely snorted.

"I can't wait to explain this to the others tomorrow." Daryl felt his throat tighten slightly; he'd been too caught up in a goddamn whirlwind of want and lust to remember the consequences. They hadn't said anything to the group yet; they weren't exactly the most discreet people in the world but it was one thing to have their relationship be the elephant in the room and another for it to be right out there in the open.

"Maybe that was a little much," he finally said, licking his lips. He could still faintly taste blood.

"No, it isn't that," Glenn sighed, rubbing the side of his neck. "Christ, it was _definitely_ not that. Just maybe in the future, go for my hips?"

"Well I wouldn't have went for it at all if you weren't shaving." Rolling over onto his side, Daryl let his mouth wander back to the nick, gently rolling his tongue over it.

"Well, I'm sorry if _I like_ being clean shaven."

"Oh Christ, you don't even grow anythin'," Daryl muttered. For a moment, there was only comfortable silence between them, a concept that Daryl was still getting used to.

"But you're okay with this, right?" he finally asked. "'Cause I know it's kinda weird, liking blood." Glenn sighed again but this time, it was more of contentedness.

"Daryl, you don't have to be afraid to tell me anything," he said, letting one hand drop onto Daryl's shoulder. "I'm not your Pa, I'm not Merle, I'm not going to call you crazy. We've all got secrets. It's only when we keep them inside that we go insane." Pressing one final kiss to Glenn's neck, Daryl stood up, trying to wipe the foreign feeling grin off of his face. As he cleaned himself up and slipped his clothes back on, he couldn't help but go through his mental archives, thinking of all the things about himself that Glenn still didn't know. There was still quite a bit, ranging from all the times his Pa had whomped him one to some of his other fantasies that had been lingering unfulfilled in the back of his mind for a very long time.

Glenn was right; he definitely had his fair share of secrets. But, as he took another sneaky glance at his handiwork on the kid's neck, he had a feeling that he was ready to let go of most of those secrets.


End file.
